Paxton shook his head and made his way quietly through the fallen leaves to the same spot they’d hidden in last time. They would line the same river, and the watermen had agreed to help once more, their boats offshore. Their hope was to lure the beast down from the mountains or out from the water.
They waited hours, feeling the frost set in around them. Paxton crouched under the drooping branches of a persimmon tree, his frozen ears perked for any sound. From a distance he could see Tiern shivering, even in his fur-lined leathers, but Paxton wasn’t worried. The temperature was cold, but not quite freezing like last time.
The Zandalee were as still and quiet as ever.
The night was silent. No horns. No beast. No hunters calling out. No fishermen throwing rocks toward shore. Paxton nodded to himself as the far sky began to lighten. The creature had probably taken the night off to tend its wounds. He clenched his teeth in frustration at another unsuccessful hunt.
As the hunters marched stiffly back to royal lands, tired and sullen, Tiern and Paxton kept toward the river, talking in low tones in case Harrison or the Zandalee caught up to them.
“How long will that last on your fingers, whatever she used?” Tiern whispered.
“Few days, maybe a week if I’m careful.”
They walked in silence a few moments until Tiern looked around to make sure nobody had come near. “Listen, Pax. In no time at all those marks’ll be gone, and nobody will ever know. If you kill the beast, you can marry the princess, and—”
“No. Tiern, get it through your mind. I cannot marry her. Lashed . . . we don’t even live full lives.”
“What do you mean, you don’t live full lives?”
Paxton shrugged. “Lashed need to work magic to live longer. Haven’t you seen how quickly they age?” His brother’s eyebrows were drawn together. Of course he hadn’t noticed. “I’ll most likely die in my forties, as ragged as an old seafarer.” He hadn’t let himself dwell on this part, though it bothered him far more than he let on.
“Deep seas,” Tiern mumbled. “But you could secretly use magic and just keep wearing that paint—”
“Why are you so keen on having me marry her, Pax? I thought you wanted her for yourself.”
Paxton could feel Tiern staring at him when he didn’t respond, as if trying to work a puzzle. “I know you care for her, you bloody brute. At this point, I would only marry her so that I might take care of Mum and Papa.”
Paxton gave a dry laugh. “How quickly your attitude has changed. You make marrying Princess Aerity sound like a chore.”
“Not a chore. It just feels . . . wrong now. And perhaps I fancy another.”
The little sister. Paxton chuckled for real now. “She has several years before the king will let you sniff around her, Brother. She’s bound to fall in love with a dozen officers and lords between now and then. Long after the hunters’ invitations have expired.”
Tiern looked down at his feet, and Paxton immediately regretted what he’d said. Yes, it was known that the king wanted his children to marry whom they chose, but this hunt was a special circumstance. The royal children did not regularly interact with commoners in normal life.
Tiern glared at him. “Why are you bothering to hunt, then, if you don’t even plan to marry her? For the glory? One last show of your mighty greatness before you disappear forever and the rest of us are left empty-handed?”
Tiern’s huff of angry air made a cloud of steam as he stomped ahead, leaving Paxton on the sandy, leaf-ridden shore.
Paxton turned toward the water and crossed his arms. Why did he stay, if not to claim Aerity’s hand? He stared down at the broken oyster shells and smooth stones gently batted by the moving water.
The truth hit Paxton’s chest with powerful force, but he couldn’t admit it to his brother. Yes, he wanted Aerity, but in reality he felt he could not have her. If he couldn’t have her, he wanted none of these other hunters to claim her either. Perhaps it was selfish, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand the thought of any of these men, including his own brother, smelling her scented skin or tasting her soft lips as he had. If he killed the beast and forfeited his “prize,” it would baffle everyone, and perhaps even bring the royal family a moment of shame, but it would leave Aerity free to choose of her own accord.
No, he could not explain that to Tiern. His brother might keel over from shock to find out Paxton was capable of such thoughts and feelings. Indeed, Paxton was even astounded at himself.
He turned at the sound of footsteps in the sand. Harrison and the three Zandalee joined him in the surf.
“If I do not kill something soon,” Zandora said, “I will need to fight.” She rubbed a fist into her palm.
Paxton held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I’ve had my brawl. You’ll have to pummel Harrison here.”
The lieutenant laughed. “Have the healer at the ready for me!”
Zandora punched Paxton’s arm. “Who did you fight?”
“Volgan.”
Her eyes gaped wide and she punched him again. “I miss all the fun! Did he bleed?”
“We both bled.”
“Who shed more?” By the seas, her eyes were hungry for details.